


Truth Or Dare

by HarryPotterIsBi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Coming Out, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Indian Harry Potter, Interracial Relationship, Late Night Conversations, Light Angst, M/M, Making Out, Minor Character Death, No Sex, Sleepovers, Snogging, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Truth or Dare, Underage Drinking, Underage Relationship(s), Unhappy Ending, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarryPotterIsBi/pseuds/HarryPotterIsBi
Summary: Harry and Ron get drunk at a sleepover, and decide to play Truth or Dare.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 48





	Truth Or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of that scene between Hannah and Courtney in 13 Reasons Why

Ron didn’t usually do this kind of stuff. Breaking into his parents’ liquor cabinet when they were out of town. Then again, he didn’t normally have sleepovers with his friends either. 

Though that was before Hermione had passed away, after all. It was a lingering silence. Unspoken nervousness that hung between the duo as they sat together in the common room. Hermione had been an essential part of the Golden Trio - the brains. Without her, there was an emptiness that Harry and Ron didn’t know how to fill.

Then Harry had come up with the idea. “Let’s take our minds off of it. That’s what Hermione would have wanted,” he said. 

In a way, maybe he was right. Wouldn’t Hermione have wanted them to move on with their lives? Even if it was at a drunken sleepover. 

“Just one shot, or something,” Ron had grumbled, casting a nervous look at the front door. Despite how ridiculous it sounded, he was worried that his parents might barge through the door at any moment. They weren’t home. They hadn’t been home for nearly two weeks now. On a mission for the Order. It was almost routine by now, with the war’s tensions coming to a high. 

One shot had turned to four. Then a beer. The dark-haired boy had crashed into the fridge in a tipsy attempt at climbing up the counter to grab the wine bottle. Which had ended up….somewhat successful. _With a broken fridge handle and a bruise on Harry’s side._

Whatever pain it caused, ended with the teenage boys in fits of giggles on the kitchen floor, tears of laughter in their eyes. 

“Oh my god,” Ron snickered, offering out his arm for Harry to take. “Get up, midget.” Drunken laughter tumbled out. “Don’t just lay on the ground the whole night. Let’s actually do something.”

“What?” Harry whined, with a small whimper of faux pain for effect. He staggered to his feet, swaying dangerously to the side, green eyes shimmering in the moonlight. Ron swallowed bitterly at the sight, setting the wine bottle on the countertop with unnecessary force. 

“I’m drinking it. I almost broke a rib trying to get it, Ron. I’m drinking it.”

“Yeah, well you’re fixing the fridge before Mum and Dad get back,” Ron huffed, rolling his blue eyes. “Come on, then.”

He lazily clicked his tongue, grabbing Harry by the arm and dragging him to the bedroom. 

They tumbled into the sheets, Harry propped up against the window. His ginger-haired counterpart laying on his stomach, turning up to face Harry with a wine bottle laced in his grip. 

“Ronnie,” Harry suddenly whined. “I’m _bored_.”

Blue eyes looked up in a glossy gaze. “Well, what do I do about that? You think of something to do, if you’re so bored,” he tiredly slurred, poking at Harry’s thigh. 

“Ugh.” Harry’s head fell back against the cool glass of the window. His nose scrunched up in contemplation, nails raking through ginger locks. “Truth or dare,” he suddenly announced, hazy green eyes turning to face Ron.

“With two people?” Ron asked, propping himself up against the orange pillows nearby. He got a sharp look in response. “Fine, fine,” he muttered, looking away from Harry. The Indian boy let out a weak groan, as he pulled himself up to a sitting position beside the redhead. 

The two of them weren’t normally this friendly with each other. They hadn’t been, since first year. As they had gotten older, it was as if they had drifted farther apart. Life-threatening adventures often didn’t leave much time for socialising. 

“You go first,” Ron hummed, dragging his fingers on the hem of his shorts. 

“No fair,” Harry muttered under his breath, shifting closer to Ron. The dark-haired teen squinted gently, looking the other over. His cheeks were tinted pink from the alcohol he had drunk in the past few hours. The alcohol that had very much taken effect. 

“Take off your shirt.”

“What?” the redhead sputtered out. He tensed from his spot against the bed, suddenly as stiff as the headboard behind him. 

“God, I don’t even know,” Harry scoffed, with a small shake of his head. “It’s the first thing that came to mind.”

“Fine. Weirdo,” Ron responded playfully, with a slightly concerned expression in place. 

There was a glint of surprise in Harry’s eyes when Ron shifted, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. It landed somewhere on the carpet, though he didn’t care to check. 

“Fine, if we’re doing dumb dares like that-” he paused for a moment, briefly thinking over the countless dares they’d done in the past. “Take off _your_ shirt.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at that. “Original much?”

“Shut up, Harry.” That gave the other a brief sting of laughter, but it faded quickly. His smile flickered with nostalgia. 

That had been Hermione’s line, after all.

Ron quickly cleared his throat. “Well, it’s only fair.” He attempted to giggle, the suffocating air seeming to thin out with every passing moment. 

“These are more dares than truth,” Harry shot back, sitting up on his knees. He began to unbutton his pyjama shirt, offering his friend a playful look. 

“Dares are the only good part of the game,” he answered, unable to stop his gaze from wandering. 

The green fabric slid off of Harry’s shoulders, pooling on his lap. When he noticed Ron staring, he gave a shaky smile in response. 

“I guess you’re right.” Harry collapsed back on the bed, bare torso shamelessly left on display. Ron swallowed thickly, casting his gaze on the sheets. 

“Kiss me.” It rang out in the silence of the room.

“Excuse you?”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

When Ron swung his face back around, Harry had shifted so close to him, he almost fell back in surprise. No further explanation was provided besides-

“It doesn’t mean anything. Best friends do it all the time when they’re drunk.”

_Best friends did this all the time?_ The words echoed in his flustered mind. Where had Harry gotten that idea? Ron had never kissed any of his male friends. Had Harry? Had Harry kissed one of their dormmates at those late night parties? Those drunken sleepovers where Ron always passed out too early, leaving them alone for hours. The thought planted a pinpoint of jealousy in his gut. _Why?_

Ron shifted forwards, movements almost robotic. It was just a peck. A quick peck. Harry gave a drunken, lighthearted laugh when they withdrew. The wine bottle had been long since forgotten. “See,” he breathed out. “Nothing.” Odd thing to say, when they were moving closer to each other, but Ron supposed it was alright. 

Their eyes met, a new tension between the duo that had never been identified, before now. No words were spoken. They wouldn’t have helped. It started with laughter, Ron pressing another quick kiss to Harry’s lips. 

Another laugh. A kiss. A giggle. A press forward. A smile. A lingering taste of alcohol on his lips.

The sound of laughter had faded from the bedroom. Slow, unsure movements as one pulled the other forward for another kiss. Longer. A real one. It gave them both butterflies that they didn’t want to explain. 

Ron couldn’t explain why he kissed back. Couldn’t explain how his hands found Harry’s waist to guide the boy onto his lap, legs swung against his sides. Couldn’t explain why his breath caught in the back of his throat when Harry ran his hands through his hair, as he pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. 

Kisses turned to choked breaths, closed eyes. Hands traveling up Harry’s sides. _What were they doing?_ Ron wanted to blame the alcohol pumping through their system, he really did. Because, well, he wasn’t gay. Neither was Harry.

_Right?_

He wasn’t so sure, as a small whimper escaped him when Harry bit down on his bottom lip. They broke apart quickly. The first break in the situation. A lingering pause between the two. _What the fuck just happened?_

There was nothing but silence. One of them could have panicked. Could have gotten angry, and stormed out of the room. 

Neither of them did.

“This is-okay right?” Harry awkwardly began, small voice barely above a whisper. 

“Y-yeah. I think so.” Nervousness echoed back in Ron’s voice. They were both new to this. 

“Good.”

He pressed forward, getting a startle of surprise from the older teen in response. The taste of alcohol and mint laced against Ron’s lips. He let out a groan as he felt the shift above him. No comment was given, as he noticed Harry starting to move his hips. Slowly. A small, desperate grind, in search of something.

The pair’s breathing came out in short pants, touches feeling like fire. Harry’s intoxicating kisses trailed down Ron’s neck. 

He’s so lost in the moment, he doesn’t hear the knock on the door.

There’s a small whine, a tug at the hem of his shirt, the room suddenly terribly hot.

Didn’t hear the person let themselves in the room. Too busy with drunken mumbles to hear the footsteps approaching. 

“Come here,” Ron slurred, dragging his partner to meet his lips.

“Hey, guys. Is everything alright? I thought I heard something stra-” 

Ginny came to a stop in the middle of the doorframe, dumbfounded at the sight before her. 

Blue and green eyes flew open. Harry jerked, staggering to climb off of Ron. Lips left him before he could even blink, so fast that Harry nearly fell off of the bed. 

“Shit.” It’s whispered in sync with one another. 

“I-” Ginny took a hesitant step backwards, cheeks burning with red. _What the hell had she just walked in on?_ “I’m sorry, I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to-I didn’t know-”

“There’s nothing to know.” Harry’s already on the wooden floor, shirt half-buttoned in the wrong places, with creases and a ruffled collar. His slippers are on his feet. He doesn’t bother with his socks, before stumbling past Ginny.

Ron winced. He had forgotten that Ginny was home. 

“Harry,” he called out. The gears were starting to shift. The redhead jumped out of the bed so quickly, he nearly crashed into his sister. “No, no, no, Harry. Don’t leave,” he choked out frantically. But it was too late, the brunet was already halfway across the bedroom. 

Harry’s gaze is dull. It slides past Ron, eyes on the doorknob. 

“Can we please talk-”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence, before Harry’s shaking fingers had opened the door and slammed it close. And suddenly, the room is empty again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos would be much appreciated!


End file.
